


Spell of Fire and Water

by shineebigbang



Category: SHINee
Genre: Adventure, Brief mentions of knives, F/F, Fantasy, Romance, mild emetophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:53:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11945646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineebigbang/pseuds/shineebigbang





	Spell of Fire and Water

Minjung takes a handful of the long, black skirt of her hanbok into her calloused hands, carefully considering whether or not she should remove it before entering the river which is presently lapping at her bare toes. While stripping to one’s undergarments for swimming was certainly the cultural norm, Minjung was fearful that she may forget just where on the banks she had left her clothes, which would mean walking back home half-naked and freezing. The sun had already begun to set, which made that prospect even less inviting. She huffs in mild frustration before an idea occurs to her; there is a waterfall not far from where she is presently gazing at the flowing waters. Perhaps by placing her hanbok there, she would be less likely to lose it…? Minjung beams, pleased with her ingenuity, and begins to head upriver, the pebble-kissed riverside prodding at her bare toes like small, kneading punches.

Minjung, like all other mages, retained a youthful face in spite of being centuries old; a mage at her age of age two-hundred and thirty was indistinguishable from a human woman at age twenty three. While all mages possessed the same basic powers and skills, a great many specific abilities were granted only to mages of specific types. As for herself, Minjung was a fire mage with the power to heal. After having completed decades of training under a master in her mid-eight hundreds of healing and potionery, Minjung was proficient in both arts and at present was searching for an herb which only grew on the floors of rivers. With every step she takes, the crashing of the waterfall grows louder and louder. What had, in the beginning of her trek, been a small and distant column of white has grown into a large, looming pillar of froth, pounding hard and incessantly against the river beneath it. As Minjung draws closer, she is able to more clearly see the stone wall behind the waterfall, a strange object between the grey rock wall and the pouring waters makes itself more visible to her, too obstructed by the falls to be identified. Ever curious, Minjung picks up the pace, once more taking her hanbok in hand to allow her to lengthen her stride. 

By the time Minjung is close enough to discern what the object is, the splashing of the waterfall is spraying against her, dampening her jet black hair, and forming into droplets on her forehead before running down the warm brown skin of her face. The sight of the figure before her causes her to freeze where she stands, each muscle going rigid as she takes in the sight of a young woman with sharp features and an enchanting face. Her hanbok is in a messy heap at her side and she is seated with her legs crossed just behind the torrent, eyes closed and hands in her lap as if meditating. 

Minjung gulps.

She had come to the falls for the express purpose of placing her hanbok on the shore in a place she was certain not to lose it. That was all, nothing further. She certainly hadn't intended on encountering another person, much less someone so effortlessly elegant and breathtaking.

Everything she had planned to do upon arriving at the banks of the waterfall melts away as she begins to sweat anxiously; she had been of such clear mind before arrival, but at present she is deeply embarrassed by the prospect of shrugging off her hanbok and wading in the thigh-depth center of the river in search of an herb. What had once seemed a simple task now feels like a burdensome one, fraught with countless opportunities to humiliate herself. 

Resigned to her fate, she clears her throat and looks at the woman again. Her eyes, Minjung confirms, are indeed closed; she looks to be deep in concentration, and so, Minjung reasons, she will not notice her if she goes in, gets what she needs, and leaves. 

Minjung rolls her shoulders back, loosening up before shrugging out of her hanbok and folding it neatly before draping it atop a larger rock. Taking her pouch in hand, Minjung treads on tiptoe into the water, the frigid river a sharp contrast to the natural warmth of the fire mage’s warm brown skin.

As she steps further into the cold water, Minjung begins to gently turn over the pebbles on the river floor with her toes in an effort to uncover the herb she seeks as the crashing of the waterfall echoes in her ears. At present, she is near the center of the river, and the current is lapping at her thighs as she realizes that she may need to submerge herself to get a proper look at the peppering of plant life and smooth pebbles beneath her wide, large feet. Taking a deep breath, Minjung braces her body for the cold and is just about to dip her head beneath the surface when a shout, barely audible above the sound of the waterfall, calls out to her.

“Are you lost?”

Minjung jumps, nearly crying aloud in surprise at the sound of a voice. Her head whips about wildly in confusion, looking about for the source of the voice. Her eyes fall on the waterfall, where she had previously seen a young woman meditating. Now, that young woman is stood directly under the harsh torrent; however, rather than sending her crumpling to her knees, it is merely coursing around her, seeming to barely touch her while simultaneously crashing heavily, ruthlessly, against the rock and stone at her feet. The sight, the shock, sends Minjung, yelping in surprise and falling onto her backside with a hearty splash. 

It’s bewilderingly bizarre, the sight before her. It defies the principles of physics, and frankly, Minjung is terrified of the awe-inspiring sight of the young woman stood confidently, barely even splashed by the cascade pouring directly over her head. It is frankly impossible, at least for a human. The moment this thought occurs to Minjung, she blurts out,

“Are you a witch?!”

The woman’s brow furrows. In a graceful jump, she bounds effortlessly into the river below, walking steadily towards Minjung. As she does, the water seems to part at her feet; rather than being at the thigh-depth it naturally would be, the river instead laps gently at her feet. Minjung scrambles, trying to get to her feet but repeatedly slipping and crashing back down. The natural expression on the approaching entity’s face is cold and stern, and Minjung is nothing short of terrified of her. After a third failed attempt, she decides to stay put, her curiosity having temporarily tamed her fearful heart. 

After a few long moments that pass as an eternity, the figure arrives in front of Minjung.

And then she speaks.

Her voice, clear and bright and richly deep, touches Minjung’s ears only a fraction of a second before making its way to her heart; the sound alone soothes her fears whilst instilling a feeling that Minjung cannot quite name.

“You must be lost,” she presumes, “or at least very cold.”

Only upon hearing this does Minjung realize the truth in the entity’s words; she is indeed quite cold, her extremities in particular, and yet her face feels unusually warm, even for a fire mage.

“A-are you a witch?” Minjung repeats with a nervous stammer.

The powerful figure above her looks directly at Minjung’s wide brown eyes for a moment before smiling wryly.

“Are  _ you _ ?”

She extends a hand, larger than Minjung’s, down to her in a silent offer of help which Minjung gratefully accepts. As she rises, the cold night air blows gently against her, sending a chill through her body.

“How did you know…?”

She smiles, the grin almost haughty in nature. “I can tell. It’s in your eyes.”

Minjung nods slowly. “So then you’re a...psychic mage?”

“And a water mage,” she adds promptly.

“Right…” Minjung trails, stricken once again with the embarrassment she feels over having fallen on her backside in front of an attractive stranger several times and having made a muddy mess of herself in the process. She cannot bring herself to return the fellow mage’s gaze. “Sorry, uh...no, not lost, looking…”

“Looking?” she parrots.

Minjung, searching for any reason at all to not look at the mage stood before her, begins to brush flecks of sand and dirt off of her toned arms. “Look--yes! Yes, I’m looking for an herb. It’s for treating poi-pois-poisoning,” she prattles nervously. “It looks a bit like lotus pads when it blooms, but the sprouts take root on the river floor and are used to treat stomach problems you get from eating...bad fish…”

Realizing she is rambling, Minjung’s voice trails off. She feels rather awkward about the whole thing, in a strange position of wanting to get to know this water-psychic hybrid mage and also wanting to hide for the rest of the thousand year lifespan expected of witches.

“Sorry,” Minjung mumbles after a moment of silence, finally bringing herself to look at the other mage again. When she does, she sees her tilting her head to the side, showing her curiosity in a way that shows off her defined jawline.

“Whatever for?”

Minjung anxiously rubs at the corner of her eye with the base of her palm. “I’m telling you all this, but I don’t even know you, I don’t even know your na-”

“It’s Gwiboon,” Gwiboon provides without waiting for her to finish her sentence. “Come, walk with me to the shore.”

The two walk side by side towards where Minjung’s clothes are neatly folded, Minjung sloshing about in the current while Gwiboon walks smoothly, once again parting the waters around her legs.

“An herb for curing poisoning, hmm?” Gwiboon asks. “From bad fish?”

“Yes,” Minjung replies, some of her confidence restored by Gwiboon having expressed interest in her previous ramblings. “It’s actually becoming kind of a problem. You live on the island too, right? Haven’t you noticed more people becoming ill?”

Gwiboon sighs. “Yes, the island is my home, and yes, I have certainly seen less and less humans about of late. I have wondered for myself what sort of environmental factors may have caused it.”

Minjung smiles, encouraged. “The herb is going to be used in potions I’m developing. I am hoping that it will improve the quality of life for the humans on the island, at least until the problem itself is solved.”

Gwiboon arrives at the shore several seconds before Minjung. She looks back at her with interest dancing in her beetle-black eyes.

“So that must mean you’re a healing mage then?”

“Yes, and a fire mage too actually…” Minjung adds. “Wait, couldn’t you tell that when you...looked into my soul or whatever that was you did back there?”

Gwiboon giggles. “Psychic mages aren’t mind readers, or even soul readers. We can sense  _ motivation _ in the eyes of others, not personhood. I sensed you wanted to know if I was a witch because you crave compan--”

“Alright, yes, wonderful, fantastic, good,” Minjung blubbers, cutting her off, determined not to hear Gwiboon finish the thought. Her ears turn red in embarrassment as she steps onto the shore. She had heard that psychic mages possessed telekinetic powers among others, but she was secretly relieved that they were not mind readers; if Gwiboon could read her anxious and embarrassed mind, Minjung feared she would simply laugh at her.

Minjung gathers her hanbok in her arms. Feeling a bit chilled still, she holds the hanbok to her chest. Closing her eyes, she utilizes her thermokinetic abilities to warm up the garment before sheepishly stepping into it, grateful for the warmth but a bit bashful about having needed to dress in front of another being.

Gwiboon offers her a smile. “I am glad to have met you…?”

“Min--I’m so sorry, forgive me...It’s Minjung.”

“Minjung,” Gwiboon repeats softly. “Pretty, I like that name.”

The sound of her own name flowing from Gwiboon’s mouth has her heart kicking up in her chest; fueled by the compliment, it flutters against her ribcage with ferocity and optimism.

“I’m going to return home,” Gwiboon sighs, looking back at the waterfall where her hanbok is still laying in a crumpled heap. “But, I am glad to have met you, Minjung.”

Minjung watches her walk away; as soon as she steps behind the waterfall to retrieve her hanbok, Minjung turns on her heel and heads back to the outskirts of the village where she resides. As she walks, her wet toes squelching against the blades of grass at her feet, she turns over every moment she has just shared with Gwiboon. A sense of hope and giddiness is starting to blossom in her chest, and she allows it to carry her home, trying to set aside the memories of the multitude of embarrassing things she did in front of Gwiboon in the span of their brief encounter.

It is only when she arrives home, however, that she realizes that she did not collect the herb she had sought after in the first place.

 

The following morning, Minjung awakens slowly to the sensation of sun on her face. Sitting upright, she considers her dilemma.

Minjung very much still needs the herb sprouts she had gone to collect the previous day. However, by returning to the river, she runs the risk of seeing Gwiboon again. While she would very much like to see the mage on other circumstances, the prospect of seeing her is daunting because it would require admitting that she left without the one thing she had gone to the river for. Although Gwiboon would, Minjung supposes, not know that the reason she forgot it was because she had been so flustered by her, she still is not fond of the prospect.

Nevertheless, the matter at hand is of greater importance than Minjung’s own pride. With a resigned sigh, she gets to her feet and arranges her black hair into a coiled plait before dressing herself and leaving her home behind her.

Minjung had always been fond of humankind, due in part to her nature as a healer. While most mages preferred to live far from villages and cities, Minjung made her living on the perimeter of the island’s village. Unlike the mainland peninsula where Minjung was born, their island consisted of a lone, sprawling village with administrative buildings not far from the agricultural hub that defined the outer limits. While technically a part of Silla Kingdom, the people of the island were mostly reliant on the local administration; Minjung herself had gone to the island upon encouragement from her former potions master, who had encouraged her to take up residence near the volcano. That had, in fact, been her intention, but the fact of the matter was that Minjung felt she could more properly actualize her role as a healer by integrating herself into the society of the islanders; now, she was a familiar face among the people. While the islanders knew of her capability in creating medicine, not one among them speculated that any magic was involved in the creation of these potions and poultices. As such, she was seen as a rather important person among the islanders, and Minjung saw it as her duty to provide them with care by providing her medicines to the scant few doctors on the island for use on the sick and injured. This sense of duty is what has brought Minjung back to the riverbed; this time, a bit up-river from the waterfall. While it is still close enough to be audible, she figures she is far enough away from the falls to not encounter Gwiboon again and risk the mage accusing her of stalking her. Minjung winces, the idea so mortifying that she nearly shudders.

Looking about and confirming that no one is around, Minjung once more casts off her hanbok, takes her pouch in hand, and sets out into the water.

The current, pulled along by the waterfall ahead, is faster than Minjung had anticipated; it tugs at her legs as if coaxing her to go over the falls and see if Gwiboon is there again. Minjung resists it, heading with determination to the center of the river; looking beneath her feet, she spots, to her excitement, a small green sprout. As she crouches to examine it, the current continues to push against her, but now that she is not standing firmly upright, it is far more difficult to resist it. Nevertheless, Minjung persists, refusing to give up the chance to retrieve the budding sprout. If she puts her head under the surface, she risks losing her footing and being swept up by the river, and so she is forced to feel the river floor in a blind search. After a few moments, her fingers find purchase and she plucks the lone sprout from among the pebbles before examining it closely. She recognizes it instantly; the characteristic smell of it makes her nose burn just a bit, and the sensation causes a knowing, triumphant smile to form on Minjung’s face. She all but leaps to her feet in excitement, thrilled at the discovery, and whoops aloud to no one in particular.

Stuffing the little shoot in her pouch, Minjung starts sloshing back for the shore. Tired from fighting the powerful current, her legs begin to quake and her footing grows unsure. Instinctively, she lowers her arms and hunches a bit in an effort to balance herself; no sooner has she dropped to this posture, however, than the pouch with the coveted sprout touches the surface of the rushing water. Realizing her mistake, Minjung tries to move away, but it is too late; the flow catches the small bag from her too-loose grip and sends it rushing away from her, towards the drop at a speed Minjung knows she can’t match on foot.

Risking everything, Minjung recklessly leaps from the river bottom and swims after her prize. Perhaps, she reasons, if she swims along with the current, she can catch up with the pouch and the valuable herb inside. 

Minjung’s logic proves correct; within a few seconds of powerful kicks and strokes, she has caught up to the little burlap pouch and snatched it up into her hands. Holding it to her chest for safe-keeping, Minjung makes to stand and head back for shore...only to realize, to her horror, that she is a scant few meters from the drop of the falls.

Her stomach sinks as she scrambles, every passing second in which she cannot find her footing increasing her anxiety tenfold. Flailing with her free arm, she tries desperately to fight the current, kicking wildly as her heart races in her chest.

The water quite literally falls around her as Minjung falls from the crest of the waterfall, a panicked scream ripping from her lips as she descends. Minjung screws her eyes shut, curling in on herself and bracing for impact as she plummets into nothingness.

The fall is taking far longer than she imagined. With every moment that passes in which she does not smack against either the rocks or torrent below, Minjung’s anxiety grows. However, it seems to her as though eons have passed since she tumbled from the falls, and she has yet to make contact with anything. Slowly, very slowly, Minjung opens her eyes…

And discovers she is suspended in mid-air about two meters from the surface.

Another scream erupts from her, her eyes, wide with disbelief, wildly looking about for whatever or whomever is keeping her airborne like this. Her frantic gaze finally settles at the bottom of the falls, where she sees her savior.

“Gwiboon!” Minjung exclaims in shock.

The water and psychic mage is stood on top of the rocks that Minjung would have landed on, her arm outstretched and her dark eyes concentrated sharply on Minjung’s tensed body.

She offers Minjung a knowing, smart little smile.

“Pleasure to see you again,” she calls back, raising her voice so as to be audible over the falls.

Minjung gives a small, almost meek nod in return, looking down at Gwiboon. She is relieved to have been saved, but she is mortified by the circumstances that have brought her and Gwiboon together again.

“Uh…” she adds after several moments of incredibly awkward silence. “Would you mind letting me down?” 

Minjung sees Gwiboon smile and presumably chuckle; the sight of her grinning, even from a distance, has Minjung’s heart up in knots. Minjung instantly dismisses this feeling as anxiety as she watches Gwiboon slowly lower her arm. As she does, Minjung begins to descend again, slowly enough for her to outstretch her feet and touch down gently when she reaches the rocks.

Upon landing, Minjung releases a breath she had unwittingly been holding.

The pair of mages make eye contact again, Minjung finding herself unable to look away from Gwiboon’s magnetic gaze.

“The herb again?” Gwiboon questions. 

Minjung moves her hand away from her chest and releases the white-knuckle grip she’d had on her pouch.

“You sensed my motivation?” Minjung assumes.

“No,” Gwiboon answers truthfully. “You were holding a small object to your chest, and when I saw you yesterday evening you were looking for an herb, and then you left the river without it, so…”   
Minjung feels her face go hot. 

“Y...you saw that?”

Gwiboon takes a deep breath and appears be stifling a giggle. After a moment, she replies,

“I did. I thought calling out to you would embarrass you...I figured you would realize before you reached your place of living and come back for it.”

Minjung rubs at the back of her neck sheepishly. “I noticed when I got home, but I was a bit...I was nervous to come back right away.”

Gwiboon tilts her head to the side, and Minjung worries for a moment that she is going to question  _ why _ she was nervous. Mercifully, however, she questions something else entirely.

“Where do you call home, Minjung?”

Minjung once more fights back a smile at the sound of her name coming from Gwiboon’s lips. She points vaguely eastward.

“Village outskirts, in a raised house.”

“A villager, hmm?” Gwiboon teases with an airy laugh. “I had you pegged as a volcano sort, you being a fire mage and all.”

Minjung perks up immediately, seeing an opportunity to fulfill her wish to get to know Gwiboon. 

“It’s kind of a long story,” she responds, being vague on purpose.

Gwiboon clicks her tongue. “Well, if you are not pre-occupied, perhaps I could show you to my own home? I’d love to hear more about that potion you’re concocting, and what brought you to the village.”

And that is how Minjung finds herself behind the waterfall she had so recently fallen over. After giving Minjung a few minutes to climb up and retrieve her hanbok, Gwiboon had lead her to the stone floor behind the falls. 

“Do you live here?”

“In a sense,” Gwiboon replies vaguely. “A moment, please.”

Gwiboon reaches both arms out towards the falls, catching a handful of the water in her large, cupped hands before tossing it into the air. To Minjung’s amazement, rather than splash at her feet, the water forms a small, spherical ball. Clenching her fist, Gwiboon freezes the ball into ice before concentrating on it for a moment. The ice sphere shakes in midair for a moment before forming the shape of a small spear.

Minjung gasps aloud as Gwiboon shifts from utilizing her water abilities to the telekinetic side of her psychic powers to move the icicle towards a tiny hole in a larger stone that makes up the wall of boulders at the back of the falls. After a few moment’s concentration, she grips the icicle, gives it a tug, and swings the entire boulder to the side. Minjung is gaping openly at what she sees; now that the other side of the rock door is exposed, she can see that once the icicle was inserted into the hole, Gwiboon had flared out its base and used it as leverage to pull the door open.

“After you,” she offers graciously.

Minjung blinks rapidly, taking this development in before stepping inside. Gwiboon follows, reaching out for two small rocks placed inside what looks to be a torch filled with straw. She is about to strike them together when Minjung sees an opportunity to be of use to her new friend.

“I can help,” Minjung offers, extending her palm.

Gwiboon cocks a curious eyebrow, extending the torch to Minjung; the fire mage takes a single straw from the cup of the torch and rubs it between two of her fingers, igniting it instantly before tossing it back in, effectively lighting the torch.

As Gwiboon uses the small flame to light the other torches, her home becomes far better illuminated. Minjung takes it in; it is relatively simple and a bit messy. Two sitting mats rest on the floor, one clearly more used than the other, beside a short wooden table. A larger sleeping mat is also visible, with a pillow and a folded blanket to boot. Several scrolls are on the floor, where the rest are kept in a woven basket that also appears to house some calligraphy brushes.

“Feel free to sit,” Gwiboon prompts, and Minjung situates herself on the less worn of the sitting mats.

After Gwiboon finishes lighting her home, she takes a seat upon the free mat and asks,

“Does that hurt you? Touching, creating, a fire?”

“What, this?” Minjung asks with feigned innocence, producing a small fire that bursts to life in the palm of her hand. “Not at all. Have you ever met a fire mage?”

“Can’t say I have,” Gwiboon replies distractedly, staring at the tiny flame that dances in Minjung’s palm.

“We can produce a flame without a source, and, to an extent, control it,” Minjung explains. “I can extinguish a fire that I’m manipulating, too!” She punctuates this statement by closing her fist; the fire sizzles out instantly, and when she opens her palm, a small trace of smoke escapes into the damp air. “But...if something is on fire, even if I made that fire happen, I can’t make that fire go away, though. Not with magic. Gotta go the old-fashioned way.”

“Water,” Gwiboon concludes, clearly at least somewhat impressed. Minjung smiles, a bit pleased with herself.

“Your hands, then. Your skin. You say the fire doesn’t hurt you, but you still must be really hot all the time…,” Gwiboon ponders aloud.

Minjung shrugs, a bit puzzled. “No hotter than the average fire mage, I guess…”   
Her voice trails off as Gwiboon takes her hand in her larger one. Minjung’s eyes widen at the contact, surprised and a bit flustered at the sensation of Gwiboon cradling her hand and toying with her fingers.

“It’s warm,” Gwiboon observes. “Warmer than any human or mage’s touch, and yet...not quite hot either. Where have your hands been every cold winter spent behind these falls?”

Minjung giggles at the question, blushing a bit at its insinuation.

“Healing, mostly,” she answers truthfully.

Gwiboon nods. “I remember you telling me about that. That, I know more about. Manipulating the energy of the body to quicken the natural healing process, do I have that right?”

Minjung nods. “I make potions and poultices and give them to the island doctors. I don’t think people would take too kindly to direct healing from a witch, even if it is beneficial.”

“I suppose that answers why you’re not living near the volcano, then,” Gwiboon remarks. “It’s brave of you to interact directly with humans.”

“I don’t see myself as-”

“Don’t be modest, Minjung,” Gwiboon interrupts. “Humans and mages have a complicated history. You are brave to interact with those who may seek to kill you.”

Minjung counters this point quickly. “They aren’t all evil. Humans can be good. I choose to believe that most of humankind has good intentions, even in spite of the things they do. Don’t you?” 

“You are a good-hearted mage, Minjung,” Gwiboon answers. “I have some faith in the goodness of humankind, but I prefer to place my trust in the hands of other mages.”

Minjung nods quickly, “No, no, I absolutely agree. I have just always seen it as my calling to help those in need, and I have observed a great deal of need among the humans of late.”

“A calling,” Gwiboon echoes softly. “How do you figure?”

Minjung stares at the wall with unfocused eyes. “It...took some time to figure out,” she ventures guardedly. She is presently caught in a bizarre limbo of emotion, half of her wanting to share every minute detail of her years of struggle to combine the often destructive powers of a fire mage with the typically docile powers of a healer. The other half of her screams in protest at the very thought of offering such an intimate insight to her anxious heart with Gwiboon. The end result is Minjung staring blankly at nothing, wishing that she had never shared the knowledge that she felt called to do anything in the first place.

Gwiboon sighs, but Minjung cannot read the emotion behind the noise. “It’s fine if you don’t want to share,” she remarks, and Minjung releases her held breath in relief. “I know it’s not always easy to talk about oneself.”

Minjung turns to face her and sees a surprisingly despondent look on Gwiboon’s face, the normally friendly bow of her lips set in a downcast frown. 

“What do you mean?” Minjung asks cautiously.

Gwiboon shrugs. “I guess I’ve just never felt a calling before? I’ve never felt like there was something I was supposed to be. I’ve always just...I don’t know, been? My mother used to tell me to live in the present, which admittedly I haven’t always been great at...maybe that’s why I’ve just never truly considered what exactly I should make of myself.”

Minjun can tell Gwiboon is not comfortable talking about this great uncertainty, so she poses a question instead. “Was your mother a mage, too?”

While a smattering of mages identified as male, mages had always been a supernatural category reserved for those assigned female at birth. A mage and a human man could and often did produce children together; any sons would be born as typical humans, but any and all daughters would be mages, born with the powers and eon-long lifespan inherent to a mage. However, there were occasionally mages born to human parents as well, Minjung being one such mage; these children were dubbed “spontaneous manifestations” by the mages of old, who believed that their existence was due to the cycle of reincarnation.

“No,” Gwiboon answers after a moment. “No, I had human parents.”

Minjung smiles a bit sadly. At the age of two-hundred and thirty, she had long since outlived her parents, her nieces and nephews, their children, and the two generations that followed. 

“So did I,” she offers kindly.

They pass the afternoon like that, sharing stories of the times their powers originally manifested, how they had left home in search of masters to guide them, and how they had arrived on the island, both having been born on the peninsular mainland. It is not until the sun begins to set and the air grows a bit cooler in Gwiboon’s cave that Minjung glances out of the open door and sees the falls aglow with a gorgeous orange hue from the setting sun. The sight is a stunning display of the beauties of nature, a brilliant display of pink and orange light dancing in the column of water crashing before them.

“Woah,” Minjung breathes, awe alight in her airy tone.

Gwiboon follows her gaze; she has lived in this cave for decades, always leaving the stone door open whilst inside to prevent suffocation, and has certainly grown accustomed to the sight. However, the sound of Minjung so enchanted with the beauty of the falls has her appreciating them anew; Gwiboon has never before found the falls so beautiful.

“Do you like it?” Gwiboon asks with a knowing smile.

Minjung turns to look at her, an exhilaration in her eyes that kicks Gwiboon’s heart up in her chest.

“Like it? It’s stunning, all this light…”   
Minjung’s voice trails off as her gaze finds itself on Gwiboon. The warm sunlight has brought a cheerful, evening glow to Gwiboon’s cave, and the light catches Gwiboon’s eyes in a way that makes them shine, inviting and dark and compelling. The glow of sunset looks simply gorgeous on her, and Minjung finds herself at a loss for words.

Sensing her hesitation, Gwiboon’s brow furrows. “What were you saying, Minjung.”

“You’re beautiful,” Minjung blurts out. Her eyes widen in panic as she realizes what she has done, and she shakes her head furtively before prattling, “ _ It _ ! The waterf--the sunset! It’s beautiful….really, uh…it’s beautiful.”

Gwiboon giggles and Minjung blushes a hot, humiliating red.

“You flatter me,” Gwiboon laughs. 

“I’m sorry,” Minjung squeaks, scrambling to her feet and taking her pouch in hand.

Gwiboon rises as well. “No need for apology. It’s not every day that a charming mage compliments you!”

Minjung gulps.

“Are you leaving, Minjung?”

Minjung looks down at the little pouch in her hands. After opening and confirming the little sprout remains intact, she nods, eager for any excuse to get out of the embarrassing situation that her slip of the tongue has placed her in.

“I probably should,” she replies. “The potion...I really need to get started on it.”

Gwiboon nods her understanding. “Best of luck to you. I hope you will return soon.”

Minjung nearly drops the tiny pouch in her shock. 

“You...you want me to come back?”

“Of course,” Gwiboon answers immediately, drawing nearer to her. Minjung, a bit embarrassed, takes a step backwards, but Gwiboon, not to be deterred, takes another step in her direction.

“I enjoy your company,” Gwiboon tells her sweetly.

The sound of those four words echoes in Minjung’s mind as she walks home. She had decided to wade in the waters near the riverbank for a while as she made her way back, hoping to get lucky and encounter a second sprout.

‘“ _ I enjoy your company” _ ,’ Minjung thinks to herself, sloshing through the water distractedly. ‘ _ What does that mean?’ _

Minjung rolls her eyes at herself. 

‘ _ It means she enjoys your company, meathead _ ,’ she admonishes herself. 

Almost without her realizing, her subconscious falls into an argument with itself over the matter.

_ ‘It could mean more than that.’ _

_ ‘It doesn’t.’ _

_ ‘But it could!’ _

_ ‘What’s there to like, the fact that you almost died in front of her?’ _

_ ‘She might think I’m funny?’ _

_ ‘Funny in a bad way, if that. You could be witty if you weren’t busy being so nervous. Why bother with what she thinks of you?’ _

_ ‘Because she’s special.’ _

_ ‘You’re just starved for attention and latching on to whoever gives it to you.’ _

_ ‘It’s not a bad thing to enjoy the company of someone, especially someone so kind and beautiful.’ _

_ ‘You should not get your hopes up. She just said she enjoys your company. She almost definitely meant it platonically, if at all.’ _

_ ‘She wouldn’t lie, and she may not have meant it platonically. It’s not too much to hope…’ _

_ ‘You don’t even know if she’s interested in women.’ _

_ ‘She said she liked my company.’ _

_ ‘Again, there’s no way she’d have romantic interest in someone like-’ _

Minjung’s thoughts are interrupted when her shin strikes a foreign object in the water.

As she looks down at her feet, Minjung feels a small surge of disgust; a dead fish, floating on the surface, has just made contact with her leg. She is about to rush out of the water on onto the shore when it occurs to her; she had gone to all the trouble of gathering the little sprout in her pouch because more and more people were becoming ill from diseases seemingly related to fish consumption. Perhaps it would be worth her time…?

Minjung shudders at the thought of touching the fish corpse, but resigns herself to picking it up. 

The entirety of her walk home, Minjung holds the body at an arm’s length, the smell of it in particular bringing a sense of revulsion to her, making her gag a bit. It is almost peculiar how rancid, how rotten, the fish smells, and that further piques her curiosity over the fish. The smell, Minjung rationalizes, may be a clue to what exactly had happened with these fish that was harming the villagers.

Upon arriving home, Minjung drops the fish’s body onto a raised platform she had constructed out of a circular stack of stones which she used primarily to chop ingredients to place in her cauldron, suspended on rods to the side of her chopping platform. She scuttles to the side briefly to take a hold of one of her knives before returning to her find. Bracing herself for the smell to be released, Minjung draws her knife and slices into the underbelly of the fish.

She immediately gasps in disgusted horror.

Oozing from the fish, accompanied by a noxious odor, is a viscous, black sludge.

Blinking rapidly, Minjung’s mind rapidly works to catch up to exactly what she is seeing. Quickly, clumsily, she seizes hold of a clay bowl and scoops the offending substance into the vessel, gathering as much of it as she can. The smell seeps into the air about her, causing her dark eyes to prick with tears of utter disgust.  _ How _ , she wonders,  _ if this issue was pervading the local fish, had the humans not noticed? _

Two thoughts immediately occur to her; the civilians did not cut into the fish, they sold and cooked them over a fire before cutting. Furthermore, it was not as if there were many other options for food in the village. The humans of this area were accustomed to life in a fishing village, and the fish Minjung had cut into was of the staple species of their island. 

Resigned, Minjung composes herself, keeping her duties in mind as she checks to be sure she has gathered all of the sludge she can. If this contamination is as common among the fish as she suspects, Minjung is confident that the culprit behind the ailments sweeping the village is presently cradled in her little bowl. 

Empowered by a surge of motivation after making her discovery, the fire mage quickly sets about preparing her cauldron to study the sludge. Pouring a basin from her collection of river water into the pot, she crouches to the floor to set the twigs beneath her cauldron ablaze with a small gesture. While she waits for the water to come to a boil, Minjung rolls the sleeves of her hanbok up to her elbows and makes a quick note on a scroll about the properties of the sludge before she begins her study of it.

When at last the time comes to scrape the sludge into the boiling water below, a puff of purple smoke materializes, billowing and ominous, and Minjung cannot contain the gasp that escapes from her lips. Covering her mouth and nose with her sleeve, the healer moves to take the little sprout she had so coveted out of her pouch and crushes it against the chopping platform with the base of her hand. It felt like a shame, to waste her prized find on the experiment, but she knew she would need to test and see if there was any way the sprouts could still be of some use in solving the health crisis. Briefly, she thinks of Gwiboon and the two times she encountered her in search of this little plant before throwing the smashed pieces into the cauldron below, carefully watching for a reaction.

The purple smoke, which had begun to dissipate through the air and escape through the open windows, thickens the instant that Minjung added what she hoped would be the antidote. Dread billows in her chest; she knows she was not incorrect about the sprout being used to cure fish poisoning, but this reaction has confirmed her fears. The black sludge was the scourge that was harming others upon consumption, not the fish themselves. It was such an unnatural substance, so thick and putrid, that she could not help to wonder if a malevolent witch could be behind the problem.

Gathering a basket, Minjung rushes with haste to the market, knowing that the shopkeeper closed shop at twilight, and tries to convince herself to not jump to conclusions. As she rushes through the town, however, Minjung cannot seem to shake herself of her hunch. 

Malevolent witches stood in sharp contrast with the benevolent. There were no differences in the powers nor appearance of the mages; rather, the contrast was on a level of opinion. Benevolent witches actively helped humankind, or if nothing else, ignored them entirely. However, malevolent witches did not wish to co-exist with the humans of earth in any capacity, and were willing to kill both mankind and other witches if necessary to achieve this goal. Minjung had heard many  tales of malevolent witches, but in over two centuries of living, she had only once encountered one of these. Before meeting Gwiboon the previous evening, Minjung had believed herself to be the only mage on the island. Was it possible that a third may be present, and an evil mage at that?

Minjung brushes the thought aside long enough to keep a straight face while purchasing the last of the shopkeeper’s fish.

“Quite a lot of extra fish today, ma’am,” Minjung remarks to the petite woman, elderly by island standards, who hands her the six fish. 

“Bad day for sales,” the woman sighs. “I’m afraid as more and more people fall ill, the less they are eating. It’s all very bad for business.” She huffs, wiping her hands on her apron. “That, and the smell gets worse and worse by the hour.”

Minjung takes pity on the woman and pays her a few extra copper pieces. Shocked, the woman blinks up at Minjung, taking her in. At nearly six feet in height, Minjung towered over the women and almost all of the men in the village, and while she was generally respected by them, they tended to view her as a strange character, to which her height was a contributing factor. 

In her shock at encountering Minjung, the vendor blinks rapidly, barely able to stammer out a thank you as Minjung dashes off in a flurry, the urgency of the mage’s task having sprung back to the forefront of her conscious. 

As she hurries home, clutching her basket of experimental fish to her chest, Minjung catches another breath of the same rancid scent that had categorized her previous find. She wastes no time in cutting into the fish bellies as soon as she is home.

With every slice, her fears only seem to magnify; each and every fish is contaminated with the strange, black sludge. 

Insipid dread pools in Minjung’s chest like molten mercury. Her heart begins to race as hundreds of potential causes swirl turbulently in the stream of her conscious. Shaking, she takes a hold of her cauldron to steady herself, her heartbeat audible in her ears as the gravity of what she is seeing, what she knows deep in her gut to be true, crashes upon her. Her instinctive hunch that this sludge was the work of a malevolent witch sparks into a feeling of near-certainty, given how incredibly unnatural the substance feels and smells. She gulps. The prospect of finding and catching the mage responsible for the act is daunting, if not entirely impossible. It had been by a stroke of dumb luck that she found another witch on the island, but she saw it as incredibly unlikely that not only could she locate a third mage, but also be able to prove that she was the culprit behind the poisoned fish.

Minjung sits on her bed with a heavy sigh, cradling her head in her hands. She had clung to the idea of herself and Gwiboon being the only mages on the island as a reason why a malevolent witch may not be behind the issue, but absolutely nothing about her findings and what she has observed in the natural environment gives any indication that it could be anything else.

Gwiboon.

Minjung had not known of any other mages on the island before meeting Gwiboon the previous day. Perhaps Gwiboon would have knowledge of others like them on the island?

Clinging to this thin hope, Minjung is able to lull herself into a restless, dreamless sleep.

 

The rising sun against her face wakes Minjung, and as soon as she returns to consciousness, she is upright with a start, her concerns instantly returning to the forefront of her mind. Scrambling to her feet, Minjung hastily tightens the strings of her chest wrap and yanks her dirty and still-damp hanbok from the floor, having been in too great of a hurry the previous day to even attempt to clean the mud nor hang it outside to dry. Stuffing her feet in her slippers, Minjung once more takes up a fistful of her hanbok and rushes towards the riverbank. The grass, still dotted with glinting drops of morning dew, squelches beneath her running feet, the soft and serene scenery in a direct contrast with Minjung’s urgent, anxious mood. It takes several long minutes of running , whipping over hills and bounding over boulders, to reach the river bank, and upon arriving, Minjung’s hands drop to her knees as she stops for a moment to catch her breath. It occurs to her, as she is steadying herself, that she has no idea how to broach this topic with Gwiboon upon arriving.

She turns over possible ways to do so as she resumes her run, rehearsing each in her mind as she pants out labored, puffy breaths. 

“‘ _ Hello Gwiboon, how are you? Have you seen any suspicious witches poisoning local fish? _ ”  _ No, that’s too direct. _

_ “Hello Gwiboon. I found out a bunch of fish are filled with an unnatural poison. Do you know anything about it?” No, too accusatory. _

_ “Gwiboon, you’re really smart, can you help me solve the fish problem?” No, not specific enough _ ’...although she had no doubt Gwiboon was smart enough to help out plenty. She seemed as knowledgeable as she was beautiful, which was--no, she needed to focus.

_ “‘Would you mind helping me find the witch who planted this poison in the local fish?” That’s better but...planted seems wrong. How exactly had the witch done it anyhow?’ _

Her stream of thought is interrupted when she at last arrives at the falls. Behind the sheet of water, she sees the rock that shields Gwiboon’s home is rolled to the side, meaning she must presently be home. Minjung is uncertain if that should bring her relief or further embarrassment. In her best attempt to shake off the anxiety wrought by her fluttering feelings for the other witch, Minjung furtively shakes her head before hurrying to the entrance.

“Gwiboon!” she blurts out in a shrill, breathless cry, her voice echoing behind the waterfall.

A yelp of surprise proceeds a small crashing noise from within Gwiboon’s home in response.

“Sorry!” Minjung shouts again.

Gwiboon steps towards the door, and the sight of her has Minjung’s face pinkening. Given the earliness of the hour, she is still clad only in her nightclothes. The disheveled state brings with it an odd sense of attraction, perhaps punctuated by the fact that Gwiboon’s hair is down. It is her first time seeing Gwiboon like this, and for a moment, Minjung can think only of what it must feel like to touch that long, thin hair, seeming so invitingly, touchingly soft.

Gwiboon rubs blearily at her tired eyes, still not fully awake, and yawns.

“Are you alright, Minjung?”

Minjung forces the creeping sense of embarrassment she feels at what she is doing to go down, focusing herself on the task at hand.

“I think I found out what’s causing the epidemic,” she informs Gwiboon in a rapid-fire exclamation. 

“Good morning to you, Minjung,” Gwiboon replies, sleepiness tingeing her voice.

“I’m sorry,” Minjung repeats, wringing her hands, to which Gwiboon offers a small smile.

“I was going to wake up soon regardless,” she tells Minjung in a tone that is a strange mix of soothing and authoritative. “I’m happy you found what you were looking for.”

“That’s just it,” Minjung returns urgently. “I need your help finding the root of the problem.”

Gwiboon cocks her head to the side. “Root?” she repeats.

Minjung relays her account of all that had happened to her since leaving Gwiboon’s home the previous night, from the initial finding of the fish to her discovery and further investigation, careful to leave out the detail that the vendor woman thought she was strange in spite of the urge to make a self deprecating joke. She punctuates her telling of the story with her firm belief that a malevolent witch is behind the toxic sludge.

“Minjung,” Gwiboon offers tentatively, “don’t you think you’re...jumping to conclusions, just a bit?”

Minjung’s brow furrows. She is almost defensive when she replies, “I know a lot about potion making. That sludge had magical properties, I’m sure of it!”

Gwiboon pinches the bridge of her nose in thought. “If we’re being honest, it sounds to me like ash. This is a volcanic island, Minjung. The soot gets in the air from time to time. It could very easily be getting into the water and harming the fish, nothing more.”

“But the water itself is perfectly fine!” Minjung exclaims defiantly, fully irritated with Gwiboon now. “I haven’t seen any ashes in the water at all, and you haven’t either, you know you haven’t!”

Minjung covers her mouth with her hands, regretting her sharp words instantly. At the same time, Gwiboon exhales noisily.

“Fine.”

Minjung glances up from her feet to look at Gwiboon sheepishly. “Fine? Fine what?”   
“Fine, you have a point,” Gwiboon concedes, audibly annoyed at having to admit a flaw in her own argument. “I haven’t seen ash either, but it doesn’t mean anything, it still could be that.”

“The only way we will know is going upstream,” Minjung grumbles. “We can see who’s right when we get there.” She freezes as she realizes what she has just proposed. “If, uh, if you’re willing to come with me.”

Gwiboon purses her lips in thought, and for a terrifying moment, Minjung fears that she is about to laugh humorlessly in her face. Instead, Gwiboon clicks her tongue succinctly. 

“I’ll come,” she starts, “but only to keep you level-headed, and safe.”   
“Safe?” Minjung echoes in confusion.

“Well, yes.” Gwiboon returns, her tone almost smug. “The current is stronger above the falls. I want to make sure you don’t get hurt.”

Minjung fidgets with her hanbok sleeves, a shy smile making its way across her face.

“Come up with a strategy while I change into my hanbok,” Gwiboon instructs her. “But, just so you know, I’m still not fully sold on your hunch.”

And that is how the pair of mages end up traveling on the banks of the river together. Minjung’s plan, which she had crafted in exactly four minutes of thought, was to utilize the power of shapeshifting to spy on those who came near the stream. 

Each type of mage could shapeshift into a handful of things specific to their type, and as hybrids, Minjung and Gwiboon had access to the forms available to both of their types. Presently, Gwiboon was in the shape of a hawk, one of the forms granted to psychic mages. The clothing worn by mages could not shift with them, and so the hanboks and chest wrappings belonging to each witch were held firm in Gwiboon’s talons. Minjung had taken the form of the fire mage exclusive red salamander. While she also retained the power to transform into a dragon, fire mage dragons were wingless in nature, and it was hardly a covert disguise.

Minjung had never been particularly fond of shapeshifting, nor was she particularly fond of spying on others, but in these moments of desperation, she was eager to solve the mystery as quickly as possible. As she scurries along the ground, the dirty earth occasionally brushing her underbelly, Minjung ponders the sludge she had seen. Viscous, black, and sticky to the touch, Minjung had been unable to discern exactly what it was made of, but Gwiboon’s comment about the volcanic ash continues to echo in her mind. Suddenly, she has a change of heart; flipping onto her back, she provides the signal to Gwiboon to stop flying. Incapable of speech in her animal form, this agreed-upon signal was her only way to inform Gwiboon that they needed to talk.

Drawing near the ground, the hawk flaps her wings and transforms back into Gwiboon, the mage’s toes touching the earth as her wings fade back into arms. Minjung changes back too, remaining on her back, and for a moment, Gwiboon is standing firm above the fire mage. Minjung covers her eyes in embarrassment, face blushing a brilliant red at the brief glimpse she catches of Gwiboon’s bare skin.

Minjung feels her clothing land on her body; Gwiboon must have tossed it to her.

“What’s the matter?”

“I th...think you...you have a p-point,” Minjung stammers, trying desperately to compose herself.

“I think that the...the stuff in the fish...it has magic properties but I think ash may be inside.”

Gwiboon, unseen by Minjung, crosses her arms smugly. “I told you so,” she informs her.

Still not uncovering her eyes, Minjung uses her free hand to cover herself with her hanbok without dressing, knowing she will return to her animal form again soon; she was hardly in the best emotional place to undress herself in front of a woman she had feelings for.

“No,” Minjung sighs, trying not to think of how silly she must look with her hand over her eyes and hiding behind a hanbok whilst sat bare on the muddy ground. “I mean, I think...I think the witch who’s making the poison is using soot or ash or something to help the ingredients hold. Using powder is a common technique, I don’t know why I brushed off your idea-”

“You were being stubborn,” Gwiboon interjects matter-of-factly.

Minjung sighs. “Fine, you’re right, I was being stubborn. You had a perfectly valid point. But I think we are both right.”

“Well, what do you want to do about it?”

Minjung wants to shrug, but knows that given her position, it is unwise. “I was hoping, we transform back, I sit on your back, you fly us to the volcano, we look there.”

Gwiboon nods before realizing Minjung cannot see her. “Good idea. I’m going to transform, you can open your eyes now.”

Minjung uncovers her eyes and sees Gwiboon, very much still in human form, standing bare in front of her, confident and strong, and she inhales a sharp breath in shock.

“Gwiboon!” she cries, screwing her eyes closed. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed!”

The five words play in loop in Minjung’s mind as she rides on the back of Gwiboon’s hawk form, taking in the sights of the land beneath them. The island is not large, and so traveling to the volcano by air will take Gwiboon less than an hour, but Minjung cannot help but to feel dread with every pulse of the hawk’s wings. If indeed they do encounter the witch, what will they do? They have no plan whatsoever, and if they transform instantly upon seeing her, they’ll have to fight her naked--fight her? Will they fight her, Minjung wonders, or will they talk to her?

The sound of Gwiboon’s hawk form cawing at her interrupts her thoughts. They are drawing very close to the volcano. Gwiboon juts her beak in a direction, and Minjung follows her gaze; her eyes land on a figure, roughly human shaped, on the very edge of the volcano.

In a swooping motion, Gwiboon takes herself and Minjung a bit down and out of range of the figure, landing them on the craggy surface of the slope. Shrugging Minjung off of her back and releasing their clothes from her talons, Gwiboon makes her intentions abundantly clear without a word.

Turning her back to her friend, Minjung transforms back into her normal form, grabs a hold of her undergarments, and wriggles into them as quickly as possible, unaware of Gwiboon’s eyes on her toned, muscled back. Pulling up her hanbok, Minjung slowly turns around and finds, to her great relief, that Gwiboon is dressed too.

“You want us to go and see if maybe she’s the one?” Minjung whispers, trying to be certain.

Gwiboon nods. “Go quietly. We don’t want to scare her.”

Creeping up the volcano’s face, Gwiboon and Minjung slowly get a better view of the woman they had seen before. A pail is at her side and she is dressed in an orange and red hanbok, cuffed at the sleeves. The midday sun shines on her hair, giving it a brownish glow; her eyes are closed and both of her arms are outstretched over the volcano.

“Can you read her intentions?” Minjung whispers in Gwiboon’s ear.

“Not with her eyes closed I can’t,” Gwiboon whispers back.

They are quite close to her now, less than twenty meters, when her body suddenly goes rigid. 

Without warning, the woman turns on her heels and juts out the base of her palm at Gwiboon and Minjung. As she does, a powerful gust of wind bursts forth, knocking both of them hard in the chest and sending Gwiboon falling onto her backside.

Minjung takes a preemptive step forward, her fists clenched in tight, white-knuckled balls, but before she can get any closer, Gwiboon snags hold of her hanbok.

“Wait, Minjung!” she exclaims.

The woman leaps forth, her clothing billowing behind her as she glides on the air towards Minjung, dark eyes cold and calculating.

“An air mage,” Minjung gasps before crying out to her, “Why are you attacking us?”

The air mage lands gracefully before them, surprise etched on her face.

“You recognize my power,” she breathes, and Minjung takes her first real glimpse of her. She is far paler than Minjung and Gwiboon, her face small and sharp, and her jet black hair more closely resembles the fuzzy hair of a young monk. Minjung knew that air mages often wore their hair short to allow them to feel the wind around them more intimately, but never before today had she ever actually encountered one.

“Are you a mage?” she asks them, and her voice is far gentler than Minjung would have expected from a murderous mastermind, although heavily accented. Looking briefly to Gwiboon to check her for obvious injuries, she tentatively answers,

“Yes.”

“What is your gift, fellow mage?”

Minjung nervously produces a tiny flame in the palm of her hand in response, and the air mage blinks in surprise.

“What a versatile, helpful power,” she remarks, “the ability to destroy.”

Gwiboon catches Minjung’s hand and pulls herself to her feet. The pair of friends exchange a look; they need to gain more information from this air mage before they try anything too risky.

“I am Talim,” she proclaims, “Of the mountains beyond the Indian Peninsula.”

Gwiboon, who is far less ruffled in the presence of a potential malevolent witch than her counterpart, introduces herself in a tone that is laced with faux-friendliness.

“You have journeyed far,” Gwiboon returns. “We are of the Silla Peninsula, but have taken up residence on this island. I am Gwiboon, a water mage.”

“What brings you to our island?” Minjung blurts out anxiously.

Talim scans her for a moment, visibly skeptical of her, but still chooses to disclose,

“I am in exile,” she tells them. “The mages of that wretched Indian Peninsula have taken far too kindly to the parasitic presence of humans. They have refused to give them what they deserve after their purges of magekind.”

“It was over three hundred years ago,” Gwiboon returns coldly.

“Exactly!” Talim proclaims. “They have gotten over it far too quickly. But I have heard many stories of the Purist mages of the Silla Peninsula. I have studied your language for a century, waiting patiently for the moment I would finally come across one.”

To their shock, Talim bows to Gwiboon and Minjung.

“I apologize for my attack, my fellow Purists. I mistook you for humans. If you have been on this island long, you will know of the scourge of fish I have wrought. Please see it as a symbol of my skill.”

Gwiboon and Minjung exchange a shocked look. Minjung can hardly believe her luck, having gotten her culprit so quickly; even given the size of the island, it was no small feat, and she cannot help but to feel a twinge of pride amidst her icy fear. Talim spoke of malevolent witches on the mainland...were they calling themselves Purists now? The very name makes her sick to her stomach. The men who had sought to purge them deserved the punishment brought upon them, and most all had eventually been killed by the mages. Those who were observed to be sharing their rhetoric, too, were punished by the mages. But to seek to annihilate them all, to punish all of mankind, and to refer to this as purity...Minjung can barely contain the rage that burns within her.

“I hope you will accept me as one of your own,” Talim concludes, bowing deeper still.

In a fraction of a second, the anger that Minjung had controlled leaps forward.

“No,” she shouts, “we won’t!”   
In one quick motion, she clenches her hand into a fist, ignites the fist in flames, and punches Talim hard in the collarbone.

“We won’t take you in, and we won’t allow you to terrorize this island!”

With a shriek, she stumbles backwards, looking at Minjung with wrath in her eyes.

“You tricked me!”   
“Hardly,” Gwiboon returns dismissively. “You chose to reveal yourself for the scum you are. The mages were blessed with their powers for the sake of protecting this world and maintaining order. We will not allow you to continue your wrath upon these people!”

Minjung gasps at Gwiboon’s words, recalling when she had recently expressed indifference towards humanity. Moved by her change, Minjung draws herself into a fighting stance.

“Maintaining order,” Talim spits, “is what we should seek to do! The natural order should be of a world without ordinary humans!”

Minjung sends a blast of fire towards Talim, which she redirects with a powerful gust of air.

“You cannot defeat me!” she shouts at them. “I can redirect your flames...and you! What good are your powers without a source of water?”

Gwiboon’s eyes scour the volcano for a moment before landing on a rock. With her telekinetic powers, she lifts the rock into the air and hovers it above Talim’s head.

“I can manage,” she answers cooly. “We won’t let you get away with what you’ve done!”

With a flick of her wrist, Gwiboon releases the rock from her telekinetic grip and sends it hurtling towards Talim. Talim, thinking quickly, does the only thing she can. With a quick leap backwards, she transforms into the animal form accessible to air mages; an aerial dragon. Unlike fire mage dragons, air mage dragons were capable of flight, but did not have the access to the fiery breath that made Minjung’s dragon form so formidable. With a roar, the dragon beats her mighty wings and takes to the sky, but rather than attack Gwiboon and Minjung, she flies northeast, undoubtedly towards the mainland.

“Get back here!” Gwiboon bellows, “You coward, come back--”   
“Gwiboon,” Minjung pleads, taking hold of Gwiboon’s wrist to prevent her from potentially changing into her own animal form. 

“Let go! We have to go after her, she could-”   
“Gwiboon!” Minjung cries, tightening her grip. “There’s nothing we can do now!”

Gwiboon turns towards Minjung, a wild look of sadness and anger in her gaze. 

“She attacked you! She tried to hurt you, and she’s been killing off islanders, we can’t let her go!”

Minjung takes a hold of Gwiboon’s other hand, overcoming her nerves long enough to steady Gwiboon before her.  “I know. But we cannot catch up to her as she is, it is impossible. I will journey to the mainland on my own and stop her...and then, hopefully, the other malevolent witches there.”

Gwiboon looks at her incredulously. “If the reason you’re not taking me is because I brushed aside your hunch that a witch was behind the poisonings, I’m really sorry. You were right, and I should have trusted you more.”

Minjung cannot help but to smile a little, in spite of everything, at her friend’s words.

“You’re an incredible mage, Minjung,” Gwiboon continues. “You’ve inspired me so much. I was up all night, thinking about what you said, about how you feel you have purpose. It moved me, you moved me. And now, I see what I want. I want to protect humanity too, by stopping witches like Talim from--”

“But think about yourself, Gwiboon, what if you get hurt?” Minjung interrupts.

“What if  _ you _ get hurt?” Gwiboon echoes. “You don’t have to be the hero, not all by yourself. The burden of this shouldn’t be all on your shoulders. Please, Minjung, don’t do this alone. I won’t let you.”

Minjung sighs, resigning herself. She is gleeful at the prospect of a shared duty with Gwiboon, but it terrifies her to know that she may have to be in harm’s way.

“I see in your eyes that you want to protect me,” Gwiboon tells her, gingerly touching Minjung’s shoulder. “And I want to protect you, too.”

Minjung smiles, a genuine smile, tears pricking in her eyes as the gravity of all that has occurred today crashes upon her. 

“Can I give you a hug?”

Gwiboon nods softly, accepting her friend’s tight embrace, and for a moment, the world, Gwiboon’s world, is at peace.

 

It takes them three weeks to arrive at the shores of the Korean Peninsula. After studying Talim’s poison for just over two weeks, Minjung had been able to create a cure in time to treat those who had not yet passed from the poisoning, several failed attempts later. She took another evening alone to mourn those she had been unable to rescue, apologizing to their families for her self-perceived failure. Gwiboon, for her part, had been very comforting towards her in those moments, reassuring her that she had done all she could and that her best was absolutely enough. Finally, the pair of them had gathered their possessions, purchased the parts needed to craft a canoe, and journeyed towards the mainland. Though the current had naturally been against them, Gwiboon’s water powers had allowed them to make relatively quick work of the journey. Presently, the two mages were on the southern shores of the mainland, the clear night sky above kissed with a thousand brilliant stars. Having only arrived mere hours ago, the two had planned to camp on the shore for the night before heading inland to make a more permanent home. 

From where the pair are sitting on the beach, they can see a large fire in the far distance and can hear the cheerful, distant melody of a song being played.

As Gwiboon stares off at the distant fire, Minjung can only look at Gwiboon, watching her with a fondness in her heart that she can only hope Gwiboon may return one day.

“Minjung,” Gwiboon whispers in awe, pointing at the distant flames, “I think it’s the Equinox Festival!”

The Equinox Festival was always a joyful time for humans to gather and enjoy the fruits of their summer’s labors as summer melted into autumn, and it seemed one such celebration was occurring nearby. Minjung’s heart swells up with happiness at the idea of celebrating a hard summer’s work with someone she loves.

As if on cue, Gwiboon turns around to look at her, her sharp eyes alight with something Minjung cannot truly name.

“Minjung,” she urges her friend, pointing in the direction of the music, “dance with me!”

Minjung’s eyes grow large in shock. “Over there? With the people?”

Gwiboon giggles, and once again, the sound of her laughter kicks Minjung up in the heart.

“No, silly,” she teases, “Right here! Just you and me.”

“You and me,” Minjung breathes, unable to fight neither the smile nor the blush that tints her cheeks. “Yes, I’d love that. Let’s dance!”

Gwiboon draws closer to Minjung as the latter awkwardly sways in place.

“Maybe you didn’t quite understand what I meant,” Gwiboon teases again, this time with a bold look in her beautiful eyes. 

Taking Minjung’s hand in her larger one and guiding Minjung’s free hand to her shoulder, Gwiboon takes a half-step closer, bringing them almost nose to nose. Resting her free hand on Minjung’s waist, she pulls the fire mage’s body closer still to her own.

Minjung gasps aloud at the gesture, looking Gwiboon full in the face. The weight of her palm on her waist, the sight of her face so close, the little bow of her lips...

Suddenly, a slight burning sensation envelopes the palm that is in contact with Minjung’s, and Gwiboon jolts backwards with a yelp.

“Gwiboon!” Minjung blubbers, tears already beginning to form in her eyes as she takes in the sight of her friend, hurt quite literally by her own hand, and crumples to her knees in shame and despair. “I’m so sorry,” she cries, shamefully covering her small face with her hands.

Gwiboon looks at her palm. It is unmarked and unharmed, the fleeting pain having already subsided, leaving only utter confusion in its wake. She knows Minjung would never hurt her intentionally, so she cannot understand what has just occurred between them, but Minjung does.

Her body, as a fire mage, was naturally warmer than that of humans or even other mages. When her heart began to race, she often would produce an excess of  heat in her hands and face as an uncontrollable physiological response. And now, she had accidentally hurt Gwiboon with her powers.

Gwiboon kneels beside Minjung on the sand, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder as Minjung sniffles.

“I’m so sorry,” she says again, wiping at her eyes pitifully.

“I don’t really...understand what’s going on,” Gwiboon admits. “But I want to help. We are a team now, so you’ve got to tell me the truth.”

Minjung looks up at her. “You want the truth?”

“I do,” Gwiboon answers without hesitation. 

“When I get really scared, or excited, my heart races. And when that happens, sometimes my...my hands heat up.”

Gwiboon cocks an eyebrow. “Are you scared of me?”   
“No!” Minjung exclaims, too loudly, and apologizes again for her volume. “No, you...I thought you were about to...you made me nervous, you make me nervous all the time…”

Gwiboon tilts her head to the side, still not speaking.

“You’re gonna make me say it aren’t you?” Minjung asks with a humorless, watery chuckle. “Fine then! You made me nervous, because I thought you were going to kiss me!”

Gwiboon hums in response, and Minjung cannot tell how she feels about what she has just told her.

“Would you like that?” Gwiboon asks softly.

Minjung blushes hot red. She can’t even look at Gwiboon, but, perhaps emboldened by her previous confession, she cannot help but to answer truthfully,

“Yes.”

Hiding her face in her hands, Minjung is shocked to her core when she feels Gwiboon’s lips kiss her temple. They are soft, softer than she had imagined, which she had many times, and it’s as if the world falls away behind her, leaving only herself and Gwiboon. 

Leaning over further still, Gwiboon whispers in her ear,

“I love you, too.”

Taking hold of Minjung’s hands, Gwiboon moves them away so that Minjung is no longer hiding, allowing her to finally make eye contact with her.

“You do?” Minjung squeaks.

“You’ve given me so much, Minjung,” Gwiboon professes. “Friendship, a greater sense of meaning. You’ve changed the way I feel about humanity. Now, I want to take actions inspired by the way you’ve made me think about the world...and the way I feel about you.”

With Gwiboon’s proclamation still ringing in her head, Minjung adjusts her position and brings herself closer to her, perhaps hoping for a hug. However, Gwiboon, filled with the courage and confidence that confessing her love to someone she knew would accept it had given her, leans forth and kisses Minjung on the lips.

The way Gwiboon kisses her is nothing short of electrifying. Her lips, soft and cool against Minjung’s, move carefully, tenderly, as if worshipping her. And as Minjung enthusiastically responds, threading a hand in Gwiboon’s hair, she knows that while the future they will face in their efforts to stop malevolent witches is uncertain, there will always be certainty in this, in love, in Gwiboon.


End file.
